


Parallels

by DuckInterpreter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (with my own changes), Alternate Universes, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied Underage Sex, M/M, Witches curse, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuckInterpreter/pseuds/DuckInterpreter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a good day so far, but Derek thinks when he gets home there might be something unpleasant waiting for him. He's not wrong; but it's much worse, and much stranger, than he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This whole story is loosely based around an episode of Star Trek: Next Generation (S07E11: Parallels). Also, the WMMA’s are the Werewolf Mixed Martial Arts championships which are very important to Derek. He does a lot of backflips.

“Hey Cora, I know it’s the middle of the night there, which is probably why your phone is off. I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way back from the WMMA’s, I didn’t die, and even though the last opponent fouled and used his claws, I still won the title. So, yeah...,” Derek looked lovingly at the glass and steel trophy that was strapped into his passenger seat, “...and I think maybe Scott planned a surprise party for me, so I’m not looking forward to that. Anyway, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He hung up and tossed the phone into the centre console and smiled a little to himself. He’d been the only beta in the finals and the guy in the last match had cheated and Derek still took the title. It had been a good birthday so far. He pulled into his driveway to find Isaac loitering on the veranda.

“Hey,” Isaac called, waving.

“Hey yourself,” Derek climbed out of the car and waved his trophy around a little.

“Nice! First place?” Isaac came down the steps.

Derek nodded and looked suspiciously at the dark house. There were no cars around, but then, how did Isaac get to the house? On the other hand, Isaac could have just run, it was only a half an hour run out of town. He inhaled deeply and couldn’t smell anyone, but it had just been raining. He was too far away from the house to be able to hear heartbeats.

He sighed. “I know what you’re planning.” he told Isaac.

Isaac looked puzzled, “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“It’s my birthday.” Derek supplied, drily.

“No way, happy birthday!” Isaac clapped him on the shoulder and when he didn’t hear a lie, Derek relaxed. Maybe there wasn’t going to be a party.

“I just wanted to see how you went, I’ve gotta get home, but have a good night,” Isaac smiled and waved, backing away as Derek climbed the stairs. 

Derek nodded curtly and unlocked his door. He wondered where he should put the trophy. He didn’t want it to be too obvious, but still somewhere that it was prominent. After a moment’s hesitation he placed it down in the middle of the dining table. He smiled at it.   
The fridge was making that weird noise again, it was distracting. This was why he didn’t like having a fridge. He’d tried to tell-

Lost in his thoughts he stepped into the lounge room and switched on a light, and was half-wolfed out before he realized it was full of his friends and pack and they were yelling “Surprise!”

He relaxed, took a deep breath, and shook his head.

“I can’t believe we actually surprised you!” Stiles exclaimed, bouncing over. He handed Derek a cup of juice.

“Me either,” Derek admitted ruefully.

“Scott said to say he was going to be late but he’s definitely coming. He put all this together.”

“Of course he did,” Derek took a sip of the drink.

Stiles handed him a small, wrapped, box.

“What is it?” Derek asked, hesitantly taking the box.

“That’s kind of the point of wrapping it,” Stiles replied, rolling his eyes. 

Before Derek got a chance to reply Peter bustled over with a large canvas in his hands.

“I’ve taken up painting. You get my first complete work.”

He handed Derek the canvas, which was covered in a confusing mash of colours and shapes.

“It’s the Battle of the Roses,” Peter said fondly.

“Oh.” Derek stared at it. “Thank you. I, uh-”

“Oh, cool!” Stiles cut in, “I love abstracts. I’ll hang it for you,” He grabbed the picture and fixed it to a wall by the door that had an empty hook.

“It looks great!” Stiles exclaimed.He winked at Derek when Peter turned away. 

“Time for cake!” Isaac called. “Allison and I baked it."

He looked at Allison with full eyes, his arm slung around her shoulders.

Derek appreciated the gesture but from where he was it looked like chocolate. He couldn’t stand chocolate. He smiled at Isaac and Allison and turned to find Stiles, who was talking to Scott by the painting. Derek walked over to them.

He listened to them for a few minutes having a conversation that Derek couldn’t follow about a game he hadn’t heard of. Then Scott turned to Derek and wished him a happy birthday. They were joined by Allison and Isaac a moment later. 

“I thought you were going to be late,” Derek said to Scott, accepting a piece of cake Isaac handed him.

A wave of dizziness and nausea hit him and he leant against the wall. A moment later it passed and he straightened. No-one noticed, absorbed in accepting and tasting their cake. 

“No way, man, I wouldn’t miss this after all the planning I did,” Scott grinned, looking up at Derek. 

Derek frowned, and looked at the cake to cover his confusion.

It was vanilla.

“I thought the cake was chocolate?” He asked no one in particular. 

“No, Allison knows you don’t like chocolate.” Scott said.

He smiled at Allison in a way that made Derek a little uncomfortable. Isaac was standing right there. Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved about a quarter of the piece of cake in his mouth and Derek followed suit. It was very good. He was glad that it wasn’t chocolate. His mother had always talked about wasting food and the importance of accepting kind gestures- he would have had to eat the whole piece.   
Which would have been gross. He dug into to vanilla cake eagerly. 

*** 

Later that night, after everyone had left or were sitting quietly, too full of food to do much, Derek sat down with Isaac and Scott.

“So, have you two done that recon on the alphas Deucalion brought back with him?” 

“What?” Scott exclaimed. “Deucalion is back? Since when?”

“He has alphas with him, what do you mean ‘recon’?” Isaac yelped at the same time.

Derek looked from Isaac to Scott and back again. They both looked confused and panicked.

“They’ve been back for a week. We fought them once. Something is going on.” Derek said. “Someone has messed with your memories. Probably the alphas.”

Isaac touched the back of his neck. “You think Deucalion has been digging around in our memories? Ugh, I feel violated just thinking about it.”

“I don’t think they have,” Scott shook his head. “But look, I’ll call Allison, if her memory has been changed she’ll still have the evidence on her neck, where they stuck their claws.” 

“Since when are you on calling terms with Allison again?” Derek asked, looking quickly at Isaac. 

Isaac may not be Derek's beta anymore, but after everything Isaac and Allison went through to get where they are now, Isaac didn’t deserve to lose her, his best friend, and his alpha.

But both Scott and Isaac were both looking at Derek like he’d lost his mind.

“Me and Allison have been on calling terms since we started dating, four years ago.” He said slowly.

Derek blinked.

“Maybe- maybe your memories have been affected?” Isaac suggested hesitantly.

Derek considered it, thought about the happenings of the last few days. “No,” he said. “I was trained to be able to recognise when my head has been changed.”

“So, you’re saying that everyone except you have had their memories changed?” Isaac asked, looking incredulous.

“I don’t know,” Derek grunted. “But this isn’t right. Deucalion and the two alphas came back a week ago and no one remembers but me? It has to be a trick.”

Scott called Allison and she confirmed that, no, she didn’t remember Deucalion coming back, no, she didn’t think she was dating Isaac and no, she had no claw marks on her neck.

“Maybe we should go see Deaton?” Scott suggested.

Derek growled. “Maybe. But for now, you two go, and keep an eye out for trouble.”

***

He locked the door behind them and listened as they loped off into the woods, apparently forgetting he could hear them wondering to each other whether he’d lost his mind. No matter, he thought, he’ll figure it out. It could be worse.  
Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit him. He groaned and took a half-step forward but the feeling left as quickly as it had come. When he opened his eyes something seemed wrong. He looked around slowly and realized what it was. The painting Peter had done- it wasn’t next to the door anymore. It was above the mantle. And the trophy was different. Smaller. He picked it up and saw written in small letters at the bottom were the words ‘second place’. He growled, slammed it onto the table and jumped violently when the door handle rattled. He hadn’t heard anyone approach.  
There was a pause and a hesitant knock.  
Derek unlocked the door and opened it slowly to find Allison standing on the doorstep looking puzzled.

“Why did you lock the door?” She asked, walking in past him without pause.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped her handbag on the coffee table.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She looked back at him. “Yes, why wouldn’t you?” She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He didn’t respond and her expression turned to one of concern. 

“Are you okay? You’ve had a big day. Come here, sit down.” She perched on the edge of the couch and patted the seat. 

Derek hesitated and Allison’s eyebrows set in a way that said that she was not going to take no for an answer. He followed her to the couch and sat stiffly. She touched his shoulders and ran her fingers up the back of his neck to rake through his hair. He jumped and stood, spinning to face her. 

“What are you doing?” Derek exclaimed.

“I was going to give you a neck rub because you look really stressed out. What the hell is going on?”

“You tell me! You come barging in here without any invitation-”

“What?” She interrupted. “Without-? Do you... not remember who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are! You’re Allison Argent-”

Allison made a small noise.

“What? What is it?” He snapped.

“Hale.” She said, her voice small. “Allison Hale.”


	2. Chapter 2

Derek froze. “You’re saying that we’re-?”

“Married. I’m your wife,” Her eyes were full but she swallowed and stood straight.

“Start from the beginning, tell me everything you remember.”

 

Allison’s story went something like this. Scott was bitten when they were all sixteen. There was a rogue alpha killing people and everyone pitched in to track it down. That much was the same for Derek, but when it turned out it was Peter, Scott was the one who killed him, becoming alpha.  
Scott changed, she said, after he became alpha. It stopped working between them and when her mother tried to kill Scott he bit her. Victoria killed herself and Allison couldn’t forgive him. Derek was there for her. He helped her understand her family history, trained with her and showed her what she could do to help, while her father was busy and grieving. She said that Derek never treated her like she was weak, like she couldn’t protect herself, and that was when she fell in love with him. He resisted, she said with a small smile, for a while. But in the end he loved her. They got married a year ago, not long after she turned eighteen. 

“We have dinner with my Dad every Sunday,” she said, swallowing. “We’re thinking about starting a family. And now…” 

“I think- I think something strange is happening. We should go see Deaton.” Derek found himself unable to meet her eyes.

She nodded and lingered on the other side of the room, took a deep breath and stood a little straighter, as if she were gathering herself, and then she walked across the room, not touching him or looking his way. 

“We’ll take my car.” She said.

They drove in stony silence, until Derek hesitantly reached out and touched her arm.

“It’s- I’m sure it’s all going to be okay,” he said to her. 

She smiled at him, small and sad, and for a moment, Derek could see how he could fall for her. She was strong and beautiful.  
For a third time Derek’s stomach lurched and his head spun. He gasped for breath and everything went black.  
The first thing he saw when he woke up was the dash, which he was leaning his face against. He groaned and looked around, he was alone in the car, parked outside of the vets. The nausea had passed, so he let himself out and went in.

“Allison?” he called.

Her name felt strange on his tongue. He tried to remember if they’d had a conversation alone before. Maybe the first time he met her, when he drove her home from a party on Scott’s first full moon. 

“She’s just in the bathroom,” a female voice called from the back. “She said you fell asleep in the car and she didn’t want to disturb you. Come on back.”

Derek cautiously made his way into the back room. Morrell was there, examining a cat that was asleep on the table.

“Morrell.” He said warily.

“Derek.” She said with a smile, looking up.

She froze. “You aren’t Derek.”

“I really am. You aren’t Deaton.”

“Well, you’re right about that at least.” She considered him coolly, her eyes taking in every part of him, as though she were measuring him up. 

“Come here.” she ordered. 

She carefully gathered the cat up and laid it in an open cage. She pointed to the table and Derek sighed and pulled himself onto it. 

“Why are you here instead of Deaton?” Derek asked, as Morrell picked up one of his hands and examined the palm.

“How do you know Alan?” She replied. 

Her voice was soft and easy, but Derek had seen her in action. She was easy and soft up until she put a knife in you. He growled.

“Druids always dance around god damn questions.”

She sighed. “My brother has never worked here. I am the vet in the family, he works as a psychologist, usually. Believe me, you want me to be helping with this. He can be kind of-”

“Vague and infuriating?” Derek cut in.

“I was going to say evil. But yes, that too. You aren’t from this universe.”

She hummed, looking at his hand and Derek blinked three times before he replied. 

“What was that?”

“It looks like you’ve been brought here from a parallel universe.” Morrell said patiently, as though she were describing something very simple to a toddler who refused to understand. “It’s probably due to a curse.”

“What’s a curse?” Allison asked from behind Derek.

He twisted to look at her and noticed in quick succession three things that had changed since he passed out in the car. First, her hair was shorter. It was nice, cut to her ears in a bob. Second, she was wearing a different outfit, comfortable linen pants and a tunic, not the spring dress she had on before. And third, she was heavily pregnant.

He blacked out.

 

Derek came to with something cold over his face. Maybe he’d been in a car accident, he thought. He didn’t feel hurt but maybe he passed out, had a bizarre dream while he healed and now he was fine. Cautiously he opened his eyes, to find himself on level with Allison’s very pregnant stomach.

He groaned.

“Can you sit up?” Morrell asked, taking a hold of his forearm and removing the wet washcloth from his forehead. 

He nodded mutely and was pulled into sitting position. She was surprisingly strong for such a small human.

“He fainted the first time I told him, too,” Allison remarked. Morrell chuckled.

Derek stared at Allison’s round stomach. “So- are you, I mean to say, um, are we-I-”

“The Derek from this universe and I are married and this is his child. Your child, I suppose.” Allison supplied calmly, though her fingers shook a little where she clutched the bottom of her shirt. “Morrell filled me in, and I called a pack meeting for tonight to hopefully track down the witch that you apparently offended.” 

“The problem is,” Morrell went on, “Any version of you in any universe could be the one who offended someone. In this universe the witch may be dead, or never have been born, or live in Hawaii. You appear to keep your own body, which could mean you are the original source of the curse. It’s equally likely that every version is keeping their body and the witch decided to curse _all_ of you.”

“My own body?” Derek asked, looking down at himself.

“This Derek has my name tattooed on his chest.” Allison said quietly.

Derek winced. “Wow.” He peered down his shirt. “I don’t.”

“Indeed.” Morrell said. “For now, go home, see your pack, and try to relax. We’ll get this sorted out.”

***

Derek couldn’t help the way he kept his hand on the small of Allison’s back as they walked out to the car. The urge to protect was almost overwhelming, even though his mind told him that she wasn’t his.

“So, your druid is much more helpful than ours,” he said, opening her car door.

She raised an eyebrow but slid into the passenger seat without argument.

“Yours is Morrell’s brother, right? What’s he like?”

“Very wise and useful, rarely completely honest, ambiguous morals.” He paused, considering, and went on. “Our Morrell was involved in the deaths of two of my pack members.”

“Your pack members? Who?”

“Erica and Boyd.”

Allison swallowed audibly. “Erica and Boyd are dead where you’re from?” she whispered.

“They _aren’t_ here?” 

She shook her head. “No. They- they’re coming tonight. Would you rather they didn’t?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t.” Derek resolutely kept his eyes on the road, but his knuckles were white where he clenched steering wheel.   
***

Derek looked around at the faces of people staring at him. They had been silent for around five minutes.  
There were so many small changes it made Derek’s head spin. Scott and Stiles sat across the room from one another, and they didn’t share the small glances of silent conversations. Peter was absent. Scott looked to Lydia for confirmation when he spoke (something that, in truth, they should be doing in his universe too), and his legs were thrown over Isaac’s, their fingers intertwined carelessly. 

And Erica and Boyd were there, sharing an armchair and looking at him curiously. The last time he had seen them he had been shovelling dirt into their graves. He couldn’t bear to look at them.

Finally, Scott cleared his throat.

“So, basically, we have to find a witch who may or may not exist here and get her to undo a curse that she didn’t actually cast, before you… end up in an alternate reality. Again?” He said. He glanced at Lydia who nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Basically,” Derek nodded.

“Where do we even start?” Stiles asked. 

Derek shrugged.

“I think I know the witch I offended. She, uh, is the sister of a druid that I…” he paused, wondering how much of Jennifer’s story to relay. Everyone was looking at him enquiringly.  
“Had a hand in killing.” he finished. The room, and especially Allison at his side, relaxed.

Isaac checked his phone. “Well, now we’ve got that cleared up, Melissa is expecting us home for dinner, so…” he paused and looked to Scott.

“Okay, let’s go.” Scott finished. 

Lydia stood, smoothing her skirt. “Stiles, you stay and get the details of the druid, see if you can track her or her sister down. I’ll look up some spells and see if we can fix this ourselves.”

Stiles nodded and everyone filed out. Derek stood by the door stiffly, nodding as each person left. He touched Boyd on the shoulder as he passed by and when Erica reached him she threw her arms around his neck. He had asked Allison not to mention their fates to them and she hadn’t, but Erica squeezed as though she had guessed anyway. He buried his face in her shoulder for a moment, inhaling deeply.

***

Stiles and Allison cooked together while Derek sat at the table writing down every detail he could remember about Jennifer and her sister, Agatha. They had a rhythm to them that Derek couldn’t help but watch. Allison would pass one way and Stiles the other, he’d finish chopping vegetables and pass them back to her without looking. It was like an intricate dance. He was also avoiding looking at his 2nd place WMMA’s trophy.

“Do we do this a lot?” Derek inquired, looking between them.

“Track down evil druids?” Stiles asked, deftly chopping a handful of herbs.

“Have dinner,” Derek clarified.

Allison and Stiles exchanged looks. Allison busied herself with stirring a pot on the stove, turning her back on the two of them.  
Stiles sighed. “Okay. There was a time where it wasn’t, uh, clear- which one of us would end up with you.”

Derek blinked. “Me and… you?”

Stiles nodded. “And when it was Allison, for the sake of the pack, we all made an effort for it to stay friendly. Isaac and Scott were together all the time and he was building his pack and you guys were renovating this place, so I spent a lot of time here. It went from forced to real pretty quick. I’m charming as hell _and_ I don’t hold a grudge, plus me and Danny dated for a bit, so it all worked out.” 

Stiles grinned and popped a piece of parsley into his mouth.

“So yeah, we have dinner pretty often. I’ve been teaching Ally to cook. You tried, but she ended up hitting you with a meat mallet or something,”

Allison snorted from behind him. “You’re a much more patient teacher,” she laughed.

***

Stiles left with the details and a promise to call if and when he’d figured it out. There was an awkward moment when they prepared for bed. Allison gave him clothes to wear, soft comfortable long pants and, after a moment’s hesitation, a worn t-shirt.

“There’s, uh, a bed in the spare room, right?” Derek said uncertainly.

Allison swallowed and nodded. “You might not be- in the morning you could be my Derek again, right?”

“I guess so? I’m not sure. It could just be a different version.”

Allison was silent for a long moment. “Okay. Goodnight.”

 

Derek and Allison’s room was on the second level and the guest room he settled in was on the first, but he could still hear Allison pacing for an hour. And sitting for the next. And then pacing again.

Finally he went upstairs.

The light was on but he still knocked quietly.

“Yes,” came a small voice. 

Derek hesitantly pushed the door open. She looked up at him, her face hopeful. 

“Are you-?”

“I’m still not your Derek. I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head. 

She turned her face away. 

“Is everything okay? Do you need something?” She asked. 

“I just- I heard you up. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Derek stood awkwardly, shuffling his feet and looking around.

“Being pregnant has made me really emotional,” she answered with a small laugh. “I just keep thinking about my Derek and what he’s doing and whether he’ll ever come back. If we’ll be able to turn the curse back.”

“We will, we’ll be able to.” Derek replied, more confidently than he felt.

Allison looked up at him, her eyes wet. “If we don’t, I’ll be alone. You look so much like him but- you don’t love me. You aren’t _really_ this baby’s father. I just-” she broke off with a sob, burying her face in her hands.

“Hey- you won’t be alone, no matter what. I promise.” Derek sat next to her on the bed and put an arm around her shaking shoulders. 

“I’ll stay with you,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him, and, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he kissed her. Her mouth was wet with tears and she smelt like home in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could feel her hard belly pressing between them and for a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to be a father. To build himself a new family.

The nausea hit like a freight train and his head spun. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of pain, heard Allison gasp his name and felt her cool fingers on his face.

When he opened them again, everything had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

It was snowing, and he was in a clearing full of people. He could see Stiles brandishing a pistol at someone and hear at least three people at his back. There was the hiss of weapons and people were shouting. Hearts raced with adrenaline.

He was transformed; his claws out, one hand wrapped around the neck of a young man, tightly enough that blood was beading at his fingertips. He looked maybe seventeen, and he held the hilt of a useless sword, the blade only a blunt stump. He was staring at Derek with pure terror.   
Behind him he heard the sick sound of tearing flesh followed by a gasp that was all too familiar. 

Derek twisted and without thinking, tossed the boy aside. The boy scrambled backwards through the snow and turned and ran when he reached the tree line.

But Derek didn’t see that because he was turning towards the fight to find a scene that filled him with a horror akin to how he felt when he return home from school all those years ago, his house aflame. Allison had a jagged hole in her chest, her face a mask of mild surprise while her fingers scrambled at the wound uselessly. Scott was standing in front of her with his hands covered in blood. Allison’s blood. His face was twisted with hatred. 

Allison began to fall to her knees, but she didn’t make it any further than that because Derek was there, catching her in his arms and laying her gently on the ground.  
He wasn’t sure if the clearing had gone silent, but his ears were ringing and all he could hear was her painful, gasping breath.

She was already too far gone for the bite to save her, the wound on her chest only bled sluggishly, pumping her lifeblood onto the virgin snow. He couldn’t even take her pain. She whispered something, her lips red with blood, and Derek leaned in closer to hear her.

Which was when he felt the white hot pain of a blade as it slid between his ribs.

Allison’s hand fell, releasing the blade, and her eyes closed.

Derek’s breath was pushed out of his lungs. It could have been the blade still deeply embedded in his side, but he thought it was more likely that it was the fact that Allison’s chest had stopped rising and falling and the blood pouring out of her gaping wound had ceased altogether. 

And then he was being dragged up, up away from her and onto his feet and Scott was roaring at him, yanking out the blade and tossing it carelessly onto the snow.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Scott thundered, his eyes red. His roar forced Derek from his form, his claws and fangs shrinking, until he was human. 

Scott pushed Derek until his back thumped against something hard, and he lifted him off the ground, still screaming. “We finally kill Argent and, what, you’re grieving for her?”

For a moment, Derek didn’t recognize him, his eyes were so full of rage, and Derek was sure he was about to die. He had seen what Scott would do to Allison, what chance did Derek have?   
And then Stiles was between them, pushing Scott away. Scott was strong, strong enough to lift Derek one-handed, but he moved easily under Stiles’ hands. Derek dropped a couple of inches onto his own feet.

“Wait,” Stiles said, peering at Derek. “Look. He isn’t Derek.”

Scott still looked furious and when he opened his mouth Stiles pointed at Derek’s face. “His scars are gone.”

“He’s right,” Derek started. “He’s- he’s right, it’s a curse, I am Derek Hale, but not the one you know.” He looked at Allison’s lifeless body, sprawled carelessly on the trampled snow. “Things are different where I’m from.”

Scott followed his gaze. “You’re wasting your time grieving for her. She was a homicidal bitch,” he narrowed his eyes at Derek, “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” 

Derek shrugged helplessly. “You don’t. But you can tell I’m not lying.”

“You could be crazy,” Scott countered.

“If I am, then I’m harmless. I think we’ve just established that you’d beat me in a fight.”

“I believe him,” Stiles volunteered with a small smirk, watching Derek with an intensity that made Derek look away.

Scott growls. “Fine. We’ll discuss this at the house.”

Derek tries not to look at Allison or the two other bodies lying around her when they walk away, with Scott in front of him and Stiles trailing behind.

***

For the third time since he last slept, Derek found himself sitting in his own lounge room with people he has known for years looking at him as though he was a stranger.  
Scott had called a pack meeting on the way back and they’d been picked up by Lydia when they reached a road. She leaned across the middle console and kissed Scott when he slid into the passenger seat.   
When they arrived at the house Isaac, Ethan and Aiden were waiting for them, and Scott had recounted Allison’s death with grim pleasure, although he referred to her solely as “Argent”. Then Stiles explained Derek’s situation, letting Derek interject occasionally. Scott still seemed to believe he was about to sell them out to the Argents, but he made no move to do anything.

“Should we kill him?” Isaac asked, looking only at Scott. He flexed his hand, unsheathing his claws.

“If we do, we risk the Derek from this reality dying as well. Our best bet is either to wait it out or to find the witch.” Lydia replied.

No-one batted an eyelash at Isaac’s suggestion, not even Stiles, who had barely taken his eyes off Derek.

“I say wait it out,” Scott said.

Derek opened his mouth to counter and Scott flashed his eyes at him. “You were the one who pissed off a witch,” he snarled. “You fix it.”

Lydia rested a hand on Scott’s arm and he relaxed. “Let’s go to bed,” she suggested, fluttering her eyes. 

Scott nodded and they turned towards the stairs.

“Wait,” Derek said “You live _here_?”

Scott stared at him. “Yes.” he said flatly.

“What about your mother?”

His jaw tightened. “My mother is dead. Your precious _Allison_ killed her.” 

***

The twins left not long after Scott disappeared and Isaac stared at Derek moodily for a while and then disappeared into the house as well. Stiles was surprisingly still and watched Derek with the same intensity he had been since the clearing.

“So, uh, do you live here too?” Derek asked, looking around. 

“No, just Scott, Lydia, Isaac and you. I’m here often enough to have my own room, though. Boyd and Erica did, before…” he trailed off. 

They were silent for a moment. 

“What is your universe like?” Stiles asked eagerly.

Derek shrugged. “Different. You’re... pretty hyper. I don’t really spend that much time with you there so I don’t know much about you, I’m sorry.” 

He looked away, had to remind himself that Stiles couldn’t hear a lie in his heartbeat. 

Stiles looked surprised. “I’m not an emissary there?”

Derek shook his head.

“I got my energy under control once I started channelling my magic, and I started spending more time with the whole pack. Look.” He lifted his shirt and turned around, displaying a large, intricate tattoo. “There’s a bit in there for everyone in the pack. You should tell your Stiles to talk to Morrell.”

“Oh, Deaton is the emissary where I’m from. Morrell is kind of… evil.”

“Tell him to talk to Morrell,” Stiles said pointedly. 

Derek shifted nervously. 

“So, what happened to Melissa here?” He asked, quietly, in the hope Scott wasn’t listening.

Stiles’ mouth tightened. “After Scott was turned, on his first full moon, he- he bit her. He wasn’t even an alpha, it would have been fine, but the Argents had been watching Scott and Gerard sent Allison to kill her. Allison called herself a friend of Scott’s to get into the house. Scott got back in time to see Allison put an arrow through Melissa. They’ve been after all of us ever since.”

“Surely Chris would have stopped that?”

“Who?”

Derek blinked. “Gerard’s son? Allison’s father? ”

Stiles shook his head slowly. “Allison lives with her grandfather and her aunt. I’m pretty sure her parents are dead.”

Derek nodded slowly. “That explains it. Where I’m from- Allison’s father is, well, he’s got a level head. He takes the code very seriously, and he protected Allison from Gerard. But here…”

Derek swallowed and looked around.

“Do you want to see your room?” Stiles asked, cocking his head to one side. 

Derek nodded. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept.  
Stiles led him to the room he’d stayed in when Allison was pregnant. His stomach lurched, thinking of her. He wondered who she ended up with when he shifted realities. Hopefully her husband came home. He thought about the Allison of this reality, orphaned and raised by Kate and Gerard. No wonder she turned out how she did. And now she was lying in the woods. Derek was beginning to understand the look in Scott’s eyes, how much rage and anger was contained within him.  
Derek walked into the room and looked around. It was bare, only a double bed and set of drawers, but on the drawers was a picture of him and Laura in a park. He heard the door shut and turned to find Stiles standing close behind him, leaning on the door. Derek’s mouth went dry.  
Stiles pushed the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, idly, revealing broad forearms covered in stark black tattoos, before he closed the space between them, grabbing the back of Derek’s head and pressing their lips together. His tongue snaked into Derek’s mouth and Derek pushed him away.

“Stiles, I-” he objected.

“Hush,” Stiles ordered. 

He planted large hands on Derek’s chest and pushed, and Derek shouldn’t have moved, he was broader and stronger, but something like electricity moved through his chest and he found himself pushed across the room to fall heavily onto the bed.   
He pulled himself up, so he was sitting, and Stiles climbed onto his lap and kissed him again, a hard, bruising, kiss that was all force and teeth and tongue. Derek could feel his body responding, it wasn’t like Stiles was unattractive, and he smelt _so much_ like his Stiles it was distracting, but… 

Firmly, he grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and pushed him away, standing up so Stiles fell to his feet. If Stiles could affect him with his magic, he would simply stay out of reach. He took a step away.

“Please go,” he said firmly, not looking at him.

Stiles sneered. “Fine. You’ve got my number if you change your mind.” He said, and stalked out.

Derek waited until he heard the Jeep pull out of the drive before he sat down again. 

***

He didn’t call Stiles. He went through his pockets and found a beaten up iPhone with a cracked screen and scrolled through his numbers (he had nine; Scott, Isaac, Aiden, Ethan, Stiles, Sheriff’s department, Lydia, Cora, and Morell). He stopped on Stiles, his finger hovering over the number, three times.  
He remembered Stiles eagerness and would find the number, remember being with Allison, her dying in his arms. And then he would remember Stiles using his power on Derek, pushing him down, the cold behind his eyes, and he would lock the phone and put it back down.

***

In the morning, Derek rose early, to find Isaac already in the kitchen making coffee.

“Still not your Derek,” Derek commented when Isaac looked up while Derek searched for a mug.

“Yeah, I know,” Isaac handed him one, old and white and chipped, “I haven’t seen Derek up before midday in over a year. I think he stays up all night patrolling. Coffee?”

Derek looked at the pot suspiciously.

“I’m not going to do anything to it, Scott said not to kill you so I won’t,” Isaac shrugged.

Derek sighed and held out the mug. 

“What am I like where you’re from?” Isaac asked.

Derek shrugged. “You live with Scott and his mother. You’re loyal, a good friend.” he said.

Isaac narrowed his eyes. 

“There’s more,” the younger boy said. It wasn’t a question, really. More of a demand.

Derek sighed heavily before he replied. “Your father died. You’re dating Allison Argent. I was the one who turned you, but I… I wasn’t a good alpha. You were better off with Scott.”

Isaac made a face when Allison’s name was mentioned. “Was there anyone she isn’t with?” he demanded.

Derek laughed, and Isaac looked shocked at the sound. It occurred to him that this Derek might not laugh very often. “She dated Scott first, and then you. You got along better with her father. I wasn’t with her in my timeline, it was another one. Another couple, actually. Lydia and Stiles are dancing around each other in my timeline, but that even seems weird to me.”

Isaac nodded, and then something seems to occur to him. “Do you know about you- this Derek- and Stiles?”

Derek nodded. “Basically.”

He and Isaac talked over breakfast, and Derek was relieved to find his humanity isn’t totally gone. It’s just hidden, as it is in his own reality, under a careful surface of strength. Here, the strength shows itself as ruthlessness, instead of sarcasm and indifference.

“In my timeline, we fought an alpha pack,” Derek said. 

Isaac nodded, and Derek took this to mean the same happened to them. 

“We ran Deucalion out of town, and killed the rest,” he continued. 

Isaac nodded again, and added, “Except the twins.”

“And just before I left, Deucalion had just returned to town. Scott was a true alpha in my universe, and he wanted to recruit him. Is that happening here?”

Isaac shook his head. “Scott killed Peter Hale, that’s when he became alpha, and there hasn’t been any sign of Deucalion returning.” He said, taking a bit of toast.

“Thanks,” Derek said. 

He hesitated, and then touched Isaac on the shoulder. Isaac looked surprised, but smiled crookedly at him. Derek returned to his small room and set to tracking down Agatha.

 

His search ended when he tracked down the Blake family, Jennifer’s mother and father, and found they had only one child, a boy. An awkward phone call later and he had established that, no, he wasn’t a witch. He hung up with a sinking feeling. He had to get out of this reality. Nothing was right, he couldn’t stand the cruelty within this pack, although he understood it.

He called Stiles.

“Are you back?” Stiles answered the phone with. 

Derek’s stomach twisted at the hope in his voice.

“No,” he said.

“Oh.” he sounded dejected. “It’s you. Did you change your mind?” He could hear the smirk in Stiles’ voice.

“No again. I was hoping you’d help me,”

Stiles laughed, a short, bitter bark. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like to solve problems and you like proving you’re smarter than everyone else.”

“Except Lydia.” Stiles said automatically.

“Except Lydia. And because this is your best chance to get Derek back. The witch doesn’t exist here, so she can’t undo the spell. I think my best bet is to force a change.”

Stiles is silent for a moment, Derek could hear the sound of his fingers drumming.

“Okay. I’ll be over soon.”

***  
When Stiles said soon, Derek assumed he’d be an hour or more, so he was surprised when only ten minutes later the Jeep pulled into the drive.

“Where’s Scott?” Derek heard him ask Isaac, as he passed through the house.

There was a pause, and then Stiles sighed. “Is Lydia here, or did she go out with him? I’m helping wrong-Derek out and I wanted to let them know but I can’t get onto them.” 

Another pause, and then Stiles’ footsteps resumed through the house. Derek assumed Isaac replied mostly with shrugs.

“That was quick,” Derek commented, when Stiles appeared at his door. 

Stiles fluttered his eyelashes.

“Maybe I missed you.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. Where do we start?”

Stiles kicked the door closed and dropped his backpack on the ground, sitting down to start pulling out heavy tomes.

“Most transitionary curses have a condition on them, they aren’t random. You hear about it in fairy tales; you know, first kiss, whatever. It could be a time limit, but I think you’d have noticed if you were spending exactly three hours somewhere. Our best bet is to figure out exactly what you were doing each time you changed. What’s the first thing you remember changing?”

Derek thought. “I had a painting that changed.”

Stiles snorted, “Art fan?”

“No, it was a gift…” he paused, “actually, the first thing I remember changing was at my birthday party. It was a chocolate cake, and then it was vanilla. And Scott was there.” 

“You don’t seem like the birthday party type to me,” Stiles remarked, writing down notes in a lined book.

“I’m not. Scott planned it.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Scott definitely isn’t.”

Derek was quiet for a moment. “The Scott I know is nothing like the one here. He’s a true alpha- do you know what that means? It means his strength of character was so strong that he became an alpha without ever killing anybody.”

Stiles was staring at Derek. “He used to be like that. Before.”

“Yeah. I know.”

The silence stretched on and on, until Stiles finally broke it.

“Okay. Tell me about the other times you changed.”

***

They went until dusk, discussing every detail of the last day and a half of Derek’s life, but could find no links between transitions except for the fact Derek felt sick and light-headed each time. Which, Stiles pointed out, was likely an effect of the transition, not a cause. During the day Stiles checked his phone frequently, frowning each time.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, finally, at about the tenth time he checked his phone.

“I’m just waiting for a call from Scott. It’s not like him to just disappear like this. But the betas should know if something bad has happened to him. Lydia’s with him, too, so she would have screamed and we’d know if something was going wrong.” He frowned.

“Maybe he’s pissed at me for helping you out,” Stiles shrugged. “I have to go home, Dad gets mad if he makes dinner and I miss it.”

“Okay,” Derek said. 

Derek stretched and then walked him to the door. Once there, Stiles turned and laid a hand on Derek’s chest.

“Of course, I’d stay if you want me to.”

Derek took a large step backwards, out of Stiles’ reach.

“Let me know if you figure anything out,” he replied, looking away. 

Stiles sighed dramatically and left.

***

Derek stayed in his room the next day, reading through one of the books that Stiles had left behind. No one came to his room and he didn’t seek anyone out. He heard Scott leave at dawn with Lydia, padding almost silently through the house. The chance that he might have to stay in this place forever was beginning to occur to him, twisting its way inside until he felt sick.   
No. He would do anything to prevent that from happening.  
Night had fallen when Derek’s phone rang. He’d fallen asleep with a book open on his chest and he jerked awake to the sound of “Sexy Back” blasting from his phone’s tinny speakers.

“Stiles?” He asked sleepily.

“Are you still wrong-Derek?” came the whispered reply.

Derek sighed. “Yes. Why is my ringtone Justin Timberlake? You did this, didn’t you?”

“Ha!” Stiles whispered. “Other Derek didn’t even know who Justin Timberlake is! You’re wasted on your own timeline.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m kind of worried about Scott, and I didn’t know who to call.”

“Surely one of the betas would have been better?”

“Well, for one, you are a beta, and for two, no. Probably not. He’s with... Deucalion.”

Derek was out of bed and on his feet in less than a second. 

“He’s been taken? Where are you?”

“No,” Stiles whispered. “I… don’t think that’s it. He came here himself. I got close enough to see a while ago and they were just… talking.”

A worrying thought began to dawn on Derek. “Stiles. Where are you now?”

“Um…”

“Please tell me you aren’t just parked outside. Because it sounds like you’re telling me that Scott is planning on joining the alpha pack; ergo planning to kill all of you, and if you’re just sitting nearby that would be really stupid.”

“I’m not parked right outside!”

“Christ, Stiles,” Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. 

“Scott wouldn’t do that,” Stiles said miserably.

“If you really thought that you’d have called Isaac,” Derek replied quietly. “But look, if he were planning on what you think he is, he’d have a plan to bring everyone together, he wouldn’t just-”

He paused, cocking his head to one side.

“Derek? Der, are you there, what is it?”

“I think you’re right, Stiles. Tell me where you are.”

“What, why, what is it?” Stiles whispered, panic in his voice.

But Derek was still listening to a far away, piercing sound that would bring them all together quickly, prepared for a fight, but not for what awaited them.

Lydia was screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part One**

When Stiles left Derek he was pissed off and horny. Neither of these were particularly new for Stiles, but for the last couple of years he’d at least had Derek to work some of it out with. Derek was fierce and cold and mean, but he loved to bottom and he didn’t mind when Stiles pulled his hair. Now there was this other Derek, who looked exactly like, and nothing like, the Derek he knew. Training with Scott and fighting off the alpha pack, his body had ended up peppered in scars. This new one was smooth and unmarked and Stiles _ached_ to find every difference.

Scott still hadn’t called.

In the morning he decided he wanted to try Derek again. He remembered that his Derek was always up for it early, used to climb in his window and have Stiles fuck him before school.  
But approaching the house he saw Lydia’s car turn out of the drive and turn another way. It was 7am. Impulsively, he hung back and followed.  
They drove forty minutes away from the house, into a warehouse district. Stiles hung as far back as he dared without risking losing them, and pulled up a street away from them, muttering an incantation to see them more clearly.  
Scott and Lydia got out of the car and were greeted by a tall, sandy-blonde man who still gave Stiles shivers down his spine. Deucalion touched Scott on the shoulder and shook Lydia’s hand and then showed them inside. It was such a friendly, familiar, gesture, Stiles felt cold all of a sudden. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why would Scott be meeting the head of a pack of alphas? The answer was clear, too clear, but Stiles could barely begin to contemplate it. Scott was his best friend. Stiles knew him better than anyone.

Didn’t he?

It occurred to him that since Melissa was killed they had barely spent any time alone together. Scott was building his pack, Stiles training with Marin Morell. They were both grieving over Boyd and Erica. When Scott and Lydia got together Stiles couldn’t even find it within himself to be betrayed, it had been coming for so long. Scott and Lydia didn’t even like each other, not really. But they had both become people who were attracted to power, and Stiles couldn’t help but wonder when the Scott he knew disappeared.

Maybe when Melissa died. Or Erica, or Boyd. Maybe it was when he was bitten. Maybe he was lost from that moment.

Scott used to be Stiles’ moral compass, and without it…

Stiles was beginning to see some of the things he’d done in the last year with new eyes. He felt sick. Two nights ago he had shot two hunters and hadn’t felt a thing. And yeah, maybe they would have killed him, but shouldn’t he feel _something_ when he killed? There was no joy in it, he thought with relief, but no guilt or sorrow either. Just… nothing.  
Being with Derek, _his_ Derek, had been twisting him up for love as well. He could barely look at anyone else he was so in love with him, but to Derek, Stiles was nothing. A means to an end. He had never pretended Stiles was more. 

He needed to get out of this town before there was nothing of him left, Stiles realized.

 

He sat on a roof opposite the building Lydia and Scott disappeared into for most of the day. They didn’t emerge again until late in the day, when the three of them climbed into Lydia’s car and drove further away from the house.

They stopped at a reserve in the middle of nowhere and three more werewolves met them there.

Stiles called Derek.

***

 

After that, things went quickly. Stiles had parked far enough away that he couldn’t hear Lydia screaming at first, but a few moments after Derek heard it the sound hit him. He winced and covered his ears.  
Derek managed to catch Isaac before he went running, and Isaac spoke to Ethan and Aiden.  
It was almost painful how quickly they accepted that Scott might be planning to kill them all.  
Stiles created a barrier around the park, using a small magic to disguise his footsteps and heartbeat, as well as his scent. He trailed mountain ash all the way around the clearing, leaving a small gap he sat over while he watched the werewolves within the space.

They were getting antsy. They expected the pack to be there by now.

The trouble was, Derek, Isaac, Ethan and Aiden were preparing to fight four alphas. Even with Stiles’ help, they were in for a hard battle, especially when one of them was their own leader. 

But the fight was over almost before it started. When Deucalion realized they were prepared, each of them holding wolfsbane-loaded guns, he bolted, taking his wolves with him. Stiles let them go before he sealed the circle of ash. Lydia slipped out quickly after, once the circle was completed, so Scott couldn’t follow her. Stiles watched her go, but made no move to stop her. He didn’t want to have to kill her, or to watch her die.  
Scott didn’t even try and run. Stiles had never seen him the way he was, snarling and biting out at the four wolves. It was as though he’d gone completely feral.  
Isaac raised a claw, and it was as if time slowed to a stop. Stiles realized he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while they killed his best friend. He ran into the circle, and pushed Isaac away with his power. Isaac went flying about eight feet and skidded to a stop. He growled at Stiles but didn’t move to attack again.  
Scott paused for a moment and then turned on Stiles. There was no sense of recognition in his eyes, and Stiles had a moment to wonder how long Scott has been gone for, and then Scott pounced, knocking Stiles down and pinning him to the ground.  
Stiles felt Scott’s claws digging into his shoulders, and his teeth snapped closed so close to his throat that Stiles could feel his hot breath, and then the weight on Stiles’ chest was gone.  
Derek pulled Scott off and tossed him aside, kneeling to check on Stiles. It’s thanks to this that he doesn’t see Isaac tear Scott’s throat out. He only heard it. _Felt_ it, like a sickening lightness that filled his heart, as another piece was taken. 

He buried his head in Derek’s chest and let a painful, ugly, sob tear through him.

**Part Two**  
Derek sent the four boys home and stayed behind to clean up. Scott may have been many things, but he still deserved to be buried, not left out in the woods like an animal. He got rid of the remnants of the mountain ash, carefully scuffing the marks with his boots, and asked Stiles to drop off wolfsbane and a shovel. He buried Scott like he did Laura, in the woods with only the plant as a marker. Scott didn’t have the nemeton tattoo here, but Derek marked out two circles anyway.

Then he walked home.

Home, he thought with a bitter snort, what a joke. This place isn’t my home. And it never will be.  
It was well after midnight when he got back, but the three werewolves were sitting around the table, talking in low voices about the future of the pack. Isaac was the alpha now, and Derek remembered their morning in the kitchen, and smiled. Isaac had the makings of a great alpha.  
He didn’t say anything to them, just nodded on his way past. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but when he pushed open the door of his room he wasn’t surprised to find Stiles sitting on his bed.

Stiles was hunched over, his face streaked with tears. He wasn’t crying now, just breathing heavily, and he looked up at Derek when he walked in. Then he stood.

“I- I’m sorry, I should go, I don’t even know what I’m doing here-” he said, pushing past Derek.

Derek stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles,” he said, his voice quiet with raw emotion.

And then Stiles was in his arms, he was kissing him and for the first time, Derek really recognized the boy who was in front of him. He kissed softly, needy, his hands on the back of Derek’s head, but not pulling him in, just… resting there.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles gasped, pulling away.

“I know,” Derek whispered, covering Stiles’ mouth with his and picking him up. He carried him to the bed, Stiles’ legs wrapped around his waist, and laid him down. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered over and over, stroking Stiles hair, as the boy sobbed into his shirt.

Finally, they slept.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke up to soft light in his eyes, which should have been his first clue.

As it was, the first thing he noticed was that Stiles wasn’t in his bed. He cracked open an eye and spent a moment feeling disoriented. This wasn’t the room he had gone to sleep in. He was in his own room, and it was whole. There were pictures on the walls and a poster of some baseball player. There were sheets on his bed, and cases on his pillows. Disorientation gave way to hope, as he realized what had happened. He had shifted again. He wasn’t home, not yet, there were pictures of people he didn’t recognise and things he didn’t remember doing, but he wasn’t _there_ anymore.  
Then he remembered Stiles, small and grieving and, now, alone. He groaned, and there was a banging on his door.

“Der, wake up! You’ll be late to pick up Stiles!”

Derek tore out of bed and wrenched open the door.

“Laura!” He grabbed her and pulled the surprised girl into a hug. 

Logically, he knew in a reality she had to still be alive, but he hadn’t allowed himself to consider the opportunity to see her. She grunted and pushed him away, and something seemed off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“The hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, but she was laughing.

He was caught off-guard. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he wasn’t really her brother, not yet. Not straight away. 

Instead he said, “I had a nightmare… and I woke up thinking that you died, and… I was left alone.”

It was quieter, rawer, than he’d expected. 

“Hey,” she pulled him in and patted his head. “It was just a dream, little brother. Besides, even if I died, you’d still have the rest of the family. Now get dressed, or Stiles will be late for work. After all, it’s your fault he lost his license.”

She bounded away and he froze to the spot. The rest of the family. _The rest of the family._  
He rummaged through the closest drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans and grabbed a shirt off the ground, and then ran downstairs.  
The kitchen was full of people. His father stood over the stove, frying bacon, while his mother and Peter’s wife, Susan, packed sandwiches into paper bags. Cora sat at the dining table, moodily chewing a piece of toast, along with her twin brother, Jacob, who was stabbing at a piece of bacon. Three kids under twelve that Derek didn’t recognize ran underfoot. He took a moment, before anyone noticed him, to listen to the rest of the house. His big brother, Paul, was playing guitar in his room. Peter was arguing with a toddler about putting on shoes, Laura was doing her makeup in the bathroom, and his Aunt Bethany was feeding a baby.

“Derek, honey, you don’t have any time to have breakfast, you’ve got to pick Stiles up,” Talia said, noticing him with a smile.

Derek nodded dumbly, and began to make his way past, when a teenager (who Derek was shocked to recognize was his brother Silas, who was five when he died in Derek’s own timeline) stomped into the kitchen. He grabbed some bacon and his mother asked if he’d finished his econ homework.

“Yeah, of course,” Silas replied, his mouth full.

Derek easily heard the lie, and was surprised that Silas wasn’t better at it. He laughed.

“That’s a lie,” he said, shaking his head.

Silas and Talia both looked at him. “No it’s not! I finished it!” Silas reiterated.

Again, Derek heard the lie. When Talia didn’t comment on it he frowned. Then he took a moment to stop and sniff the air, really smell the house. It smelt like breakfast and family, like antiques and the sticky scent that seemed to cling to small children.

But there wasn’t a single note of werewolves.

 

In a haze, Derek found his keys (luckily they had a stamp with his name on it) and drove across town to Stiles’ house. He tried not to talk to anyone in the house, even though his heart ached to just sit and be with them. He could only hope this trip would be over quickly, that Agatha was a practicing witch and willing to undo a spell for him.  
He pulled into Stiles’ driveway and had a moment of panic when he realized Stiles might not even live here. But then the door opened and he came tumbling out, running towards the car in a way that was half-stumbling, half sprinting, and climbing into the car.

“Hey!” Stiles said, half climbing across the middle section of the car to kiss Derek clumsily. “How come you didn’t let me know you’d be late? Not that I care, it just isn’t really like you. Is everything okay?”

Derek froze when Stiles kissed him, but he did it with such ease and familiarity that Derek had to assume it was a common thing. Maybe people in this reality just kiss hello? (Maybe you and Stiles are together, whispered a voice in his head.)

Stiles was staring at Derek. “Oh!” Derek realized he hadn’t answered. “I just, slept late. I didn’t have time to… text. You know.” Stiles looked sceptical, and Derek nodded, staring at the garage.

“Do you want to drive?” He asked Stiles, realizing he had no idea where he was supposed to take him. 

“I lost my license, you know I can’t. What the hell is going on, dude? You’re being so weird.”

Derek was lost for words. How to explain to someone who didn’t know about anything supernatural? How to get out of explaining? He didn’t want to leave a huge mess for this Derek to clean up, and if he and Stiles _were_ together…

Stiles was looking intently at his face. “There’s something different about you.” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Derek sighed. It was no use, trying to keep anything from Stiles. Plus, knowing Stiles he’d just figure it out anyway.

“Can you get out of work?” Derek asked, finally.

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles pulled out his phone, pled personal emergency to a woman named Wanda, who said that she knew Derek would never let him out of work without a good reason and accepted it immediately.

“Do I have work?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ brows furrowed. “No- you, it’s your day off today. Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Not here,” he said grimly, pulling out of the driveway and turning towards the woods.

***

 

Derek was pacing in between some trees with Stiles sitting on the ground staring at him.

“Just spit it out. Did you cheat on me? Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” He said, emphatically.

At least he knew they were together now.

“I’m about to tell you two things, and they’re kind of… you might not believe me, but yeah,” Derek was rambling. “Like a bandaid,” he murmured to himself.

“I’m a werewolf,” Derek blurted. 

Stiles stared at him for a second and then burst out laughing. “You got me to skip work to prank me? That’s hilarious. Is it an anniversary I’ve forgotten? You’re amazing, I love you.” He said, wiping tears out of his eyes.

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, frowning. And then he transformed.

“Holy-!” Stiles rolled backwards and was on his feet in a second. “What?”

He stared at Derek, taking everything in, and slowly relaxed his stance.

“How long?” he asked, eventually.

“Well,” Derek thought about it. “Always.”

Stiles face fell. “But- we’ve known each other for, like, _fifteen years_ , we’ve been having sex for three, how could you never tell me?” he demanded.

“No, Stiles,” Derek said again. “I’m not- That’s the other thing. I’m not from here. I’m not the Derek you know.”

Stiles thought about it, Derek could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. 

“An alternate reality or something?” He asked.

“Yes.” Derek said. Stiles acclimatised to things very fast, thank God.

“And I’m almost certain Derek isn’t lying to you. Where I’m from my whole family were werewolves. They aren’t here.”

“Were?”

Derek swallowed. “They died. A long time ago.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Derek looked away. “It’s fine. I- I have to figure out how to get home. And I need you to tell me whatever you can about Derek’s life here so I can fake my way through. The last place, I was in for more than two days, and it’s been getting longer and longer.”

“You’ve been through a bunch of alternate realities? Do you know if there’s a catalyst?” Stiles asked.

“You and I went through all this in the last place I was in, we didn’t come up with anything. Tell me about Derek’s life here first and then we can try.” He said with a sigh, sitting down.

The picture Stiles painted was a beautiful one. Derek’s mother had been working for the sheriff’s office for as long as Stiles could remember, and that’s how Stiles and Derek met. They were friends first, and then, when Stiles was sixteen and Derek was twenty-one, they got together. It was a huge source of gossip, the age gap, but both their families knew the boys well enough that it wasn’t an issue. Derek was a carpenter for a small store in town, and Stiles was training to be a deputy and working the front desk of the sheriff’s office. A few times a year, Stiles would drag Derek to rallies and protests, because he was deeply and personally offended that he and Derek couldn’t get married. It sounded simple and peaceful.  
Derek found himself in the strange and uncomfortable position of being jealous of himself.

“What about my family?” Derek asked.

“What about them?”

“How- how do I act around them? What’s my relationship with them like?”

Stiles paused. “I don’t even know how much I can explain, honestly. Your best bet is to just keep me around and I’ll do all the talking. I basically do, anyway.”

Derek laughed. “I don’t think there’s a Stiles in any reality that doesn’t.”

 

Stiles quizzed him about his home, about the other realities he’d been in. He had never heard of Allison, or any of the Argents, although he was friends with Scott and Lydia, and vaguely familiar with Isaac, Erica and Boyd.  
Derek tried to skip the parts that Stiles would object to- the deaths, being married to (and fathering a child with) Allison, and so forth. He told Stiles that the last one he met was magic and Stiles’ eyes went wide and bright.  
Then they went through all his shifts, one by one, including the last one now.

***

Stiles scratched his chin. “What did you say about touching Allison’s arm?” He asked, looking back over notes he’d scribbled on a napkin from Derek’s car.

Derek thought back. “We were driving to the vets and she seemed pretty upset, so I touched her arm to try and calm her down. Then I got sick and passed out.”

“And the next time you kissed her?” He was going over it analytically now, but the first time Derek mentioned that Stiles’ eyes had flashed. Derek nodded.

“And then you fell asleep with me.” He was quiet, contemplative. “Do you remember what you were thinking?”

Derek made a face. “Not really. I guess, the second time with Allison I had just told her I’d stay with her if we couldn’t figure out the curse. I was probably still thinking about that.” 

“Probably the same with me, huh? You probably went to sleep thinking that you would stay.”

Derek shrugged, “I guess, I don’t know what that has-” he broke off. “No.”

He could see what Stiles was suggesting and it made perfect sense, but every cell in his body cried out with fury at the injustice of it. 

“It looks like you’re cursed to stay somewhere until you actually _want_ to. Or at least come to terms with staying there.”

“That’s fucking evil.” Derek said flatly.

Stiles nodded. “Smart, though, if you think about it. The pleasant situations you move on from pretty fast, and the awful ones could go on and on.”

For a moment, Derek was reminded a little of the last Stiles he had met, so cold and calculating, and he was glad this one had no powers. Or at least any use for them. 

***

They drove around town a bit and had lunch at a bakery together. Stiles waved at every third person who walked past, and eventually Derek asked whether he should wave too.

“No,” Stiles said, his mouth full of pastry. “You’ve never waved. You always say that you feel it encourages unnecessary conversation.”

Derek inclined his head. Waving _did_ encourage unnecessary conversation.

“You know, you’re dealing with this really well,” Derek commented, taking a sip of iced tea.

“Why wouldn’t I? This is so cool, it’s like something out of Star Trek!” Stiles enthused, flailing a little.

Derek smiled.

“You look most like him when you smile like that,” Stiles commented, suddenly thoughtful. “It’s like, you look basically exactly the same, but your expressions are just a little bit… off. Most people wouldn’t notice, I think. But I spend a lot of time looking at you.”

Derek was saved from having to reply by a phone ringing. He stared at Stiles for a moment before he realized it was his. He pulled the offending phone from his jeans pocket, a picture of Laura flashing on the screen.

“I’ll get it,” Stiles said, grabbing it out of Derek’s hand.

Derek closed his eyes and let himself focus on the sound of Stiles and Laura’s conversation. It was surreal to hear them talking, even about such mundane things. Stiles was inviting himself over for dinner, she was asking about work. After a short conversation Stiles handed him back the phone.

“Laura said that-”

“I know.” Derek said, tearing a piece of donut off and eating it.

Stiles looked confused and Derek tapped his ear.

“Werewolf.”

“You’ve got super hearing? Whoa. How good is it? Like, say, could you hear those guys across the street are saying?” 

He pointed to a pair of middle-aged men in suits talking across the road from them. They were discussing business cards. 

Derek focused. “Yeah, but they’re boring. It’s good enough that I can hear their heartbeats if I listen.”

“That’s awesome. What else?”

“Better eyesight, smelling, endurance, speed.” He shrugged.

“Endurance?” Stiles asked, looking at Derek from under his eyelashes, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I can run for a really long time.” Derek said, oblivious to the innuendo. 

“I’ll bet you can, tiger,” Stiles stood up. “Let’s go back to yours, hang out with the family.”

Derek swallowed, nervous suddenly, but he nodded and followed Stiles without argument.

***

It wasn’t an eventful afternoon. To most people it would have even been dull, but Derek couldn’t think of a single thing in any universe that he’d rather be doing. He kept a small part of his mind focused on getting home, in the hope it would stop him shifting, but he talked to his brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, his aunts, uncle and his mother and father. He became a jungle gym for the little kids, holding two at any one given time. He and his father peeled vegetable together while his father talked about his day; it was boring, and Derek was transfixed. He and Laura played checkers and he let her win. Twice. When he heard the dryer finish he offered to help his mother fold the clothes as she stood to do it. He hugged her in the in the doorway of the laundry, squeezing tight and inhaling, trying to remember her.

“What’s gotten into you today?” She asked, smiling and patting his head.

“I… just feel like I’ve been so busy lately,” he said without looking at her. “I’ve barely seen any of you.”

“Well, whatever it is, I like it,” she said, folding a child’s shirt. “It makes me think about you and Stiles starting a family.”

Derek let himself smile a little, but he tried to remember that he had to go home. 

***

 

Dinner was an affair, but Derek supposed that it usually was with over a dozen people living in the house. After an afternoon engaging with so many people, Derek was exhausted, and he let himself be lulled by the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation, digging eagerly into his father’s cooking. It had been a long time, and for whatever reason, tonight it seemed like all of Derek’s favorites were on the table. Meatballs, porkchops, potato gratin, honeyed carrots, all finished off with sticky date pudding. It was late by the time the last of the food had finally been eaten.   
When Cora and Peter began clearing the table, arguing the whole time, Derek stood up to help. Chuckling, Derek’s father laid a hand on his arm.

“I think you’ve helped plenty today. You look dead on your feet, son; go on upstairs.”

Derek nodded gratefully and he and Stiles headed upstairs.

“That’s weird,” Stiles said.

“Sending us off?” Derek asked, yawning.

Stiles nodded and started rummaging through a drawer that was apparently his clothes. Derek suspected he knew why, but he listened in to the conversations downstairs to confirm. 

“It’s because they’re talking about us,” he accepted a pair of soft flannel pants off Stiles. “And why I was so weird today. Cora thinks I knocked you up,” he smiled, and Stiles snorted, “but my mother thinks we’re secretly engaged. They are…” he paused, listening. “Yeah, they’re taking bets.” 

“That’s super useful, huh, the hearing?” Stiles began to undress and Derek turned around quickly, flushing red. 

“Yeah, it really is.”

He pulled his shirt up over his head and Stiles gasped behind him.

“What is it?” Derek asked, craning his head.

“You have a _tattoo_?” Stiles whispered.

“Oh. Yeah. I got it after the fire.”

Stiles went silent, and Derek could feel his eyes on him while he pulled off his jeans and put on the pyjama pants.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Derek said, nodding towards an empty space.

“Don’t be dumb, we can share the bed. We’ve been together for years, it would look super weird if someone came in and you were sleeping on the ground. But, I mean, you don’t have to worry. I won’t try anything. I’m too full and tired anyway,” he smiled lightly, but he was sincere. He climbed into the large bed and patted next to him.

Derek hesitated, and then obliged. He settled in, facing away from Stiles, putting as much space between them as he could. There was a click and the lights went out, and Stiles shifted in closer to cuddle up to his back, throwing an arm around his stomach.

“Is this okay?” Stiles murmured into the back of Derek’s neck.

Derek swallowed. “Yeah,” he said softly, glad for the dark to hide his redness. 

And for the second night in a row, Derek slept enveloped by Stiles.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek woke cautiously. He felt the body behind him, stretched a little. Sniffed the air. Then, ever so slowly, he cracked open one eye.

He was still in his family’s house.

He grinned and rolled over, basking in the soft sunlight that lit the room. Stiles mumbled and pushed at Derek’s back and Derek rolled over to face him.

“I hate morning people,” Stiles groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. “This Derek isn’t usually one.”

“Neither am I,” Derek said gleefully.

“Well, it suits you,” Stiles yawned and stretched, his bare chest on display, and Derek was struck for a moment by how golden his eyes were in the light, how endearing his bedhead was.

He coughed and looked away.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Stiles asked.

“I guess I should try and track down Agatha,” Derek frowned. _Because I have to go home._

“Agatha is the w- w- witch?” Stiles asked around another huge yawn.

Derek nodded, and he and Stiles looked at each other sleepily for a minute. Then Stiles’ eyes sharpened.

“Wait. Agatha who?”

“Uh, Blake, if she’s got the same name as her sister.”

Stiles’ face lit with a smile.

“She lives in Beacon Hills! I know her!”

Derek’s chest tightened and he looked away, but Stiles continued unhindered.

“She’s got like a billion pets that are always escaping, and Wanda says she’s got a soft spot for me so she always sends me to return them. Man, it makes so much sense if she’s a witch. We can go right after breakfast, get you all sorted.” He bounced out of bed and began pulling on clothes. 

Derek was tempted to ask to stay another day, to make some excuse. Even until lunchtime. But he couldn’t risk shifting, to god knows what reality. So he nodded dumbly, got dressed, and followed Stiles down the stairs.

They left early enough that only Talia was up and about, and she made the two of them toast and waved them away. Derek swallowed, and didn’t hug her goodbye.

“Love you,” he said softly as he passed her.

“You too, honey,” she smiled at him brightly and then turned back to the pile of apples she was slicing.

Stiles didn’t say anything, just touched Derek’s shoulder softly as they walked out to the car.

***

Agatha lived ten minutes outside of town. Derek wanted to call, but Stiles informed him that she didn’t keep any electronics.

“Typical,” Derek muttered.

“For witches?”

“No, most witches are pretty modern. Typical that anything I have to deal with is as inconvenient as possible.”

Stiles laughed. “That’s the same here! We call it ‘The Derek Hale effect’.”   
***

 

Agatha’s house was a small brick cottage, her front yard overgrown with herbs and small trees. Derek saw five chickens and at least four cats wandering around, and he could hear more. They were climbing out of the car when the front door swung open and Agatha came to the stand in the frame. She was a little taller than Derek, with long wavy blond hair and golden skin. She could have been mistaken for a hippy if it weren’t for the sense of power emanating from her. Her age was impossible to gauge and she was draped in jewelry, all of it woven with charms. 

“Derek Hale,” she said to him solemnly. “I thought you might end up here.”

“Is that so?”

Derek stood outside the gate warily, half-shielding Stiles with his body.

“Yes,” she paused, looking from one of them to the other, “well, you’d better come in then, I’ve got the kettle on.”

***

She served Stiles and Derek up small cakes, still warm from the oven, and a large cup of tea each.

“I thought you might come here yesterday,” she said, peering at Derek from over the rim of her cup.

Derek flushed and opened his mouth to reply, but she cut in.

“But I suppose you were eager to spend time with your family. Which is well enough.”

Derek sighed. “Can you fix it? Send me home?”

Agatha inclined her head, “Of course. But…”

“There’s a cost?” Derek asked.

“Goodness, no!” she exclaimed, her hand over her heart, “What do you think of me? Although, I suppose where you come from I’m a bit of a hellion. This isn’t the first mess I’ve had to clean up, let me tell you.”

“But what, then?” Derek put down the cake and glared at her. 

“I can send you home,” She said, looking at him penetratingly, “or I can simply break the spell and you will stay here.”

Derek’s breath caught in his throat. To stay, with his family. With this Stiles, who so clearly loved him, and was so uncomplicated. Nothing would try and hurt them here.  
But.  
But the Derek who lived here, Allison’s Derek (both of them), even the one from the place where Scott had died- what would happen to them? Would they be stuck in a reality they hated?  
He wanted to stay with his family so much, more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he knew he could never live with himself if he did. To take away the man who made Stiles so happy from him, Derek couldn’t do it.  
He wished with everything he was that he could. 

“No,” he said quietly. “Send me home,”

He glanced at Stiles, who was looking into his cup.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Stiles said softly to Derek, “if you stayed. If you wanted to.”

Derek nodded, and looked to Agatha, swallowing hard.

“What do I have to do?”

***

Very little, as it turned out.

“We just need a bit of space,” Agatha said airily, leading them out her back door and down a winding path.

At some point, Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand, tangling their fingers together. Derek felt grounded, whole, for the first time in a long time. They stopped in a clearing and Derek looked around, frowning.

“This is where Allison died,” he said, frowning.

Agatha nodded. “Some places are important. This is one. Are you ready?”

Stiles squeezed his hand, and Derek turned toward him.

“Will- will I definitely get _a_ Derek back here?” Stiles whispered.

Derek smiled as warmly as he could and pressed the tip of his nose to Stiles’. “You will, definitely.”

Stiles tilted his head and leaned in to sweetly press their lips together. Derek kissed him like a man going to war and leaving behind the one he loved, so tinged with loss and sorrow, and everything else. It was a kiss that encapsulated everything he could have had with this Stiles, and everything he felt for his own. The moment stretched out. 

And then his head swam and his stomach lurched and he fell to his knees, his vision darkening.

“Agatha!” Stiles screeched.

And then there was only silence.  
***

 

Derek opened his eyes in a dark room. Room was the wrong word, because Derek couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet and, even though he couldn’t see anything, the space felt vast.  
A moment later, either his eyes adjusted or the space began to lighten, because he could make out figures standing around him. Dozens, at least. The moments passed and Derek realized there were almost more than his mind could take, all standing, still and silent in this strange place.  
 _Where was he?_  
A second later and he could make out the faces of those closest to him. They were… him. Hundreds of thousands of copies of himself. He could see younger versions of himself, and older. There were female versions and, not too far away, stood a shirtless man with Allison’s name tattooed over his heart. 

All this only lasted a few seconds, although in that strange place it might have been hours, and then he was opening his eyes and he was in his bed, staring at a slightly charred ceiling and there were people all around him.

“Derek?”

It was Scott, peering over his bed. Derek groaned and sat up.

“Yeah,” he said.

Standing around him, or sitting on the edge of the bed, or floor, were Scott, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Peter and Stiles. They all looked relieved when he sat up.

“Hang on,” Derek croaked. “Am I dating anyone? Do werewolves exist? Is anyone pregnant?”

The pack looked at each other, confused, and it was Lydia who answered.

“You're not dating anyone, werewolves exist and no one is pregnant,” she ticked off her fingers. “And this is definitely your correct reality, because Deaton gave the other Derek something that he said would make him sleep until the right one was back.”

Derek sighed and nodded, and the faces of those around him broke into smiles.

They stayed for a while, no-one really asking many questions about his time, which Derek was thankful for, mostly just sharing their experiences with him.   
Three days ago the sheriff had called Stiles to let him know Derek’s Camaro was abandoned by the side of the road, so Scott, Stiles and Isaac went out to check it out. They found him, Stiles said with barely contained glee, about four years old and transformed into a wolf pup. He didn’t stay long, though. The next one hit on Allison a _lot_ , Isaac said gloweringly, and he was also kind of scary. An alpha, Peter added.   
Deaton turned up not long after the alpha disappeared, leaving a very confused human Derek in his place, and gave him something to drink. He fell asleep, and Deaton told him that regardless of the version, they would stay asleep until the rightful one returned.  
The pack tried to track down Agatha, but she had disappeared, so they all settled in to wait. Then the guy sleeping on the bed disappeared and Isaac, who had been keeping watch at the time, called everyone over where they kept vigil until Derek reappeared a while later.   
One by one, during and after the stories, everyone drifted out. Isaac and Allison went first, Derek’s eyes following them as they left. For the first time, when he looked at Allison, he didn’t only see her family. Her aunt. For the first time he saw her as a whole person, strong and kind. And he didn’t love her, but he could see that she was lovable.   
Finally it was just Derek and Stiles. Derek was still in bed for most of the time, he was exhausted, but when Peter left something occurred to him and he followed Peter to the front door and looked around the darkening dining room.   
There, sitting on the coffee table, was his first place WMMA trophy. He grinned and picked it up, half expecting it to disappear in his hands. He had a moment of fear, that he was accepting this reality and would soon leave, but it passed quickly. 

“So,” Stiles said, coming up behind him, “I got you a birthday present.”

Derek turned around and Stiles handed him a small, wrapped gift. 

“Oh, this is the same thing you gave me at the surprise party,” Derek said, looking down at it. 

“You had a surprise party?” Stiles raised an eyebrow and then grinned. “Wait, was it Scott? He totally wanted to throw you a party! He had this big plan about how it was going to rain on your birthday and parking the cars far enough away and everything. But I told him you’d hate it. Does that mean you already know what it is?”

Derek thought back to the party. 

“No,” he said slowly, “I never got to open it.”

He unwrapped it carefully, painstakingly avoiding ripping the paper, mostly to make Stiles squirm. He was shifting anxiously from foot to foot when Derek finally pulled the gift out.   
It was a simple silver frame. He flipped it over and found himself looking at the faces of his family. They were in a park, all bunched together. He was maybe 14, smiling, with a baseball bat slung over one shoulder, Laura on one side and his mother on the other, the rest of the family clustered around with them at the centre. 

“I’ve never seen this photo before,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, my dad took it, at a big picnic thing. I was going through some stuff and I found a whole pile of pictures of families. I thought… I hope it’s okay?”

“Yeah. It’s… good.” he swallowed and put it down on the table, next to his trophy. 

“Great. Well, you probably want to be alone, so-”

Stiles hooked a thumb over his shoulder and took a step backward towards the door.

“Oh. I, um, I’m about to make dinner.” Derek said.

Stiles paused and nodded, his brow furrowed. “Okay…”

“You can stay and- eat, with me, if you want.”

Stiles smiled.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds… good.”

“Did you want a glass of champagne?” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. 

“Fair enough,” Derek grinned. “How about I make some milkshakes?” 

“Now there’s a plan.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Epilogue- One Year Later**

“I just don’t understand why you’re having a housewarming when we’ve all been coming to this place for years,” Scott complained.

“First of all,” Stiles replied, “ _never_ complain about free food. Second of all: it’s also for Derek’s birthday, it’s the only way he’d agree to having one. And lastly, we just rebuilt the whole house! It took almost a year, and there’s virtually nothing of the old place left. So shut up and eat your sausage rolls.”

Scott obligingly shoved the rest of his sausage roll into his mouth and poked out his tongue. Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek smiled at Stiles from across the room and slipped out of the lounge room to head up the stairs, checking occasionally to see if anyone had noticed. He made it to the second floor unfollowed and let himself out onto the veranda. The house had started as a replica of what it had been before the fire, but as Derek and Stiles planned and built, small, and then large, details changed. An extra bathroom, a bigger stove, this veranda, and so on.  
It was quiet up there, and tall enough to see over many of the trees. Derek took a sip of his beer and looked over the trees thoughtfully.  
It had taken a long time for him to talk about what had happened a year ago, and Stiles was still the only one who ever got the full story. He still thought about the one afternoon he’d gotten with his family, the brief visit with Erica and Boyd.  
He had hated it at first, getting to taste what it would have been like only to have it taken away. His nightmares had gotten worse, and the knowledge of how much his family would have grown made him angry and bitter. But time brought him peace, along with rebuilding his house.  
He got to meet family he never would have seen. His last memory of them was no longer their screams and the smell of burning wood and flesh.

Stiles had brought him peace too, he thought, when he heard the younger man climbing the stairs.

Stiles let himself out and settled on the chair with him, plucking the bottle from Derek’s fingers and taking a swig. He tangled their fingers together but didn’t say anything to Derek, just stared across the treetops with him.

“So, I think we should probably get married,” Stiles said casually, a little while later.

“Oh, you do? Why is that?” Derek asked. 

Stiles hummed. “Well we, y’know, built this house together. We’re already living together.”

“It’d make it easier to adopt,” Derek added.

“Yeah, and- wait, what?” Stiles blinked.

“And I do hate calling you my boyfriend,” Derek nodded.

“So you’re just going to go along with it? I suggest we get married and you just agree? Have you thought about this at all, or would you just agree to marry the first person who asked, hm?” Stiles demanded.

“Stiles-,” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off.

“I just don’t think you should just want to _go along_ with marrying somebody,” he continued, his voice rising.

“Stiles.”

“I’m not finished! This is going to be just like that time you wouldn’t tell the hairdresser what you wanted, and you kept nodding and when she was done you _hated_ it!”

“Stiles!” Derek exclaimed. “Stop. Look.”

Derek reached into his jacket and pulled out small box. He slid off the couch and knelt between Stiles’ legs, opening the box to show Stiles what was inside: a white-gold ring with a blue stone in the centre.

“You got me a ring?” Stiles breathed, his mouth wide.

“I heard you muttering to yourself in the mirror about asking me to marry you a month ago,” Derek grinned. “I already had the ring, I was trying to figure out how to ask, but I figured I’d let you do it.”

“Werewolves,” Stiles said solemnly, shaking his head. But he took the ring and slipped it on.

“Derek,” he said formally. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah, I guess so, if that’s what you want to do,” Derek shrugged.

He laughed at his own joke until Stiles cut him off with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with the story all the way through! And especially thank you to my awesome beta readers, who made a huge difference to the finished product- [Amie](http://werescum.tumblr.com/) and [Evelina](http://coloringsenses.tumblr.com/)  
> Feel free to [come say hi!](http://hexcoderose.tumblr.com)


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